


Reality Check

by MelancholicMemories



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Asylum, Atheist Remarks, Battle (war) references, Bullying, Cynicism, Dark, Deliberate Grammar Mistakes, Depressive Thoughts, Fiction, Gen, Horror, I'm trying not to spoil too much but It's hard not to, I'm very proud of the descriptive language, In a hallway actually, Insanity, Mental Health Issues, Murder, Nerdy References, Oof this guy needs help, Pain, Panic, Paranoia, Sarcastic Remarks, Some history references, The stuff I had to research while writing this lmao, Twisted sense of justice, light cussing (ex: Hell), not at the disco, sciency stuff, some parts of this are me venting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 12:42:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18120956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelancholicMemories/pseuds/MelancholicMemories
Summary: Can one really believe what they see?





	Reality Check

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a fan work, rather just a random story I wrote. Hope you enjoy nonetheless!

They prowled towards me, like wolves circling their prey in the abysmal depths of twilight. In the corner of my room I rocked back and forth, shaking, nervously mumbling phrases such as “Please..! Don’t come any closer..!” They continued relentlessly. A deafening dissonance; a swirling cacophony of cackles and patronizing chants, all slurred with their soulless, blurred visages and unnatural cheshire grins. Insults such as “ _ Worthless scum like you shouldn’t exist.” _ and derogatory phrases among the sorts were slung at me, shattering what little self-confidence I had left. I squeezed my eyes shut and silently wept. Will this nightmare ever stop?

Their voices and laughter suddenly became loud and shrill. Ear shattering. There was a slight hum in my ears, accompanied by a sudden lightheadedness. My heart was pounding furiously; I could feel a pulsing within my skull. My mind felt as if it was about to burst into thousands of disgusting particles. Suddenly, silence; an amount of sound that of which was audible in a void. Sweat dripping down my face, head aching, I reluctantly opened my eyes. The softly dusted room was desolate, as if nobody had witnessed whatever the hell just happened. As if those nondescript, colorless creatures never existed.

Whatever divine being there is out there, if one even exists, why me? Do you have fun watching me suffer? You sadist.

Eventually finding my way back to bland reality, I glanced out of the cloudy glass window. It was framed by slowly rotting wood; the now off-white paint peeling off in small flakes. It appeared to be somewhat of a dreary, melancholy day. The mood seemed to be similar to the feeling of the air after a storm; the aroma of tear drops from the colorless heavens hung in the gentle breeze, dew carefully lining the softly swaying blades of grass. And in the distance, dulled strobe light flashes, then soft rumbles like a distant avalanche, followed by an electric waft. Petrichor and Ozone.

I sighed. After what happened, if it was even real, how can the world be so calm? I for sure was not.

Taking a couple of deep breaths, I managed to calm myself down. I boredly glanced around my bland room. The same as ever. The grime covered walls, blackening from age, the unmasked pipes exposed to the eerie building I’ve managed to find myself in; an asylum. The small decaying mahogany bedside table, sporting antidepressants and anxiety medication, and occasionally a nurse’s supplies. Speaking of which…I peeked up at the clock. 1:03 P.M.

With a tired groan, I sat up and stretched, taking my half-rims and lazily placing them on my nose. A person will be visiting me in about 6 minutes, more specifically the nurse. She’s a person, nonetheless.

Sure, you could call me cynical. Trust shouldn’t be given to people like an army handing out rations. I learned that lesson the hard way.

Time inevitably passed. The nurse arrived. The sharp pierces of syringes, the lines of reality blurred. The dull panic of communication; phrases such as "How do you feel?" asked. Too numb to think, I didn’t respond. She kept prodding at me, in more ways than one. Interrogation, then medicine. Every day for the past few months, this is a typical day. After the extensive amount of pills and injections I was given, I became incredibly drowsy, quickly. Unable to keep my drooping eyes open any longer, they shut themselves on me, the world fading to black.

I awoke, for the second time today. I stared miserably at the ceiling, contemplating if I was worth existing. Suddenly noticing the difference in the hue and amount of light flooding into my dilapidated room, I peeped out of my window once more. It was evening. The sun, which appeared as if to be filled with electrified neon, blazed dully in the darkening sky. Smoky clouds lined with gold hung about, floating about without a care in the world. The sky itself was painted with vivid shades of cyclamen and golds, accompanied by  brilliant corals and salmons. An ordinary person might have found it ethereal; to me, it was just oversaturated.

Turning away from the aged window, the fading sun glistening in my hair, I sunk to the floor. How did I find myself here of all places? Oh yes. I remember. Betrayal, backstabbing. Everybody I cared about turned their backs on me. I was humiliated, blamed for something I didn’t do. And the person who framed me flawlessly got away with it. I couldn’t do anything to stop it. So, I turned my back on humanity, just as 1920s America did to foreign issues. And this is how I end up. God, I’m such an idiot. I mess up absolutely everything. Rash little-

My mental stream of consciousness  was cut off by the announcement that the asylees all had to attend dinner. Meal times were the absolute worst times of day, as that was when more than one person was near me, probably mocking me behind my back.

I made my way through the lifeless corridors, but somehow it felt like eyes were watching me, piercing me. Shivers ran down my spine, chills reverberating throughout my body. I continued. I wanted to curl up in a ball and die right there. But I have to keep going. If I don’t make it to the dinner hall, the nurses will get me in there by force… and that’s not fun for anybody. I’ve, uh… learned from experience.

I made it to the entrance. I took one step in, and my world collapsed. Every step I took felt like my legs were melting, my vision and thought blurred to the point my mind was filled with nothingness. I kept going through. If I don’t eat now, I will just be forced to eat later, and that just makes the panic attacks worse.

I managed to get my food, just before it was knocked out of my hands. I completely froze in my action. I had the same feeling as a surrounded army with no weaponry; completely and utterly helpless, at the mercy of the foe. The perpetrator seemed to be speaking to me, but I was too in my own head to pay attention; I was a deer in headlights. The delinquent then proceeded to kick me down to the ground, telling me how much of a useless person I am. I mean, he’s not wrong, but I’d rather tell myself that than hear those words come from somebody else. He also told me I’m not socially inept, just a “lazy sack of potatoes”, that being a nicer alternative. Countless insults swung at me like a baseball bat, each one breaking my mind piece by piece.

With a final kick for good measure, he strode away, head held high. I merely laid there on the ground, chest searing with a burning pain and a dropping feeling in my stomach. That was it. I’d had enough of this torture. I felt as if something broke in me within that moment. Was it my spirit, or hope? No, that’s not it. In that moment I realized I lost the final thread of sanity I had left.

A little twitchy, I headed back to my room. I sank to my bed. For a solid five minutes- wait how long was it again? I couldn’t tell anymore. I didn’t care anymore. Well, for however long, a swarm of suicidal messages circled in my head, until I realized that people like him shouldn’t exist in the first place. People shouldn’t have to go through what people like him put them through. Someone needs to do something about this. But who would? Everyone else is afraid of him, the nurses are convinced he just has problems and can be fixed, and the head of the asylum doesn’t care at all about our needs. You know what? There is an old saying by Napoleon; “If you want a thing done well, do it yourself.” I might just follow that advice. I realized I didn’t have to end myself because of something he did to me. He was the one that had to go.

My train of thought crashed and burned when the nurse checked in on me, making an obvious entrance into my room. She had more syringes with her. How “invigorating”. However, what happened next I did not control. I don’t know what came over me.

I would consider myself cultured. I know a bit about foreign sports and international ways of life. The reason I’m saying this? I know a bit about sumo wrestling. There is an uncommonly used move within the sport, called a nekodamashi. It’s a feint.

With a sudden lunge forward towards her, I gave my loudest yell. It did the trick. For a split second, the nurse blinked, stunned. I proceeded to punch her in the temple, knocking her out. She merely dropped to the ground like a hit airplane.

Frantically grabbing the syringes, I mixed the unknown liquids together into the larger syringe (albeit some of the liquid had spilled out), just like a child playing with a chemistry set. Pocketing my concoction, I quietly darted to the decrepit hall, so discreetly I could be confused for an assassin.

I’m not going to lie, the peeled plaster and chipping concrete lining the halls were quite eerie. The ends of these halls faded to a black in which light couldn’t escape from. The only light there was shone from the dying lights from above and the lone decaying window at one of the ends of the hallway.

Ironically, if we’re speaking of the condition of the hallways, there happened to be a cleaning cart down by his room; the same hallway where my room was located. Like a ghost, I silently crept to the cart. I noticed my ticket for his retribution; bleach. With a sickening cheshire grin ripping at my face, I poured the bleach into the mix of medicine. Fortunately, the syringe was larger than your average syringe; it appeared to be able to hold 450 milliliters of liquid within it.

The time had come. I slunk into his room and noticed he was at his windowsill, peering out into the depths of dusk.

The sun was lingering below the horizon; a dying phoenix in the sky, on the verge of taking its final breath before it returned to darkness, only to rise from its ashes in morning's twilight. Shades of crimson, vermillion and persimmon danced in my eyes and hair. Stars were out already; minuscule lanterns in the growing inky abyss, eventually conquering the fires of the sun.

He seemed depressive, much different than the cruel monster that had tormented me earlier. Was there something about him I didn’t know? Maybe I shouldn’t kill him. Does someone really need to die for one act of cruelty?

But then what if he attacks me again? What if not just to me, but others as well? I should take him down now. I don’t want to go through that hell again, and neither should others.

But it’s not right! He has his own life and might have a problem dealing with his behavior! Maybe he has multiple personality disorder, or maybe he just has social issues! Either way, he’s still a person! My mind, arguing with itself for a while, finally gave out.

Whatever.

I quietly walked forward, closer and closer, readying the lethal injection.

“Who-Who’s there?”, the soon-to-be victim inquired.

Shoot. Well, there’s no going back now. With all I had, I charged at him, scaring the living daylights out of him. In a second’s time, I revealed the syringe and viciously stabbed at his carotid artery. I pushed the plunger, the liquid draining into his body. I took the syringe out of his neck, blood flowing out of his artery like a rushing river, spilling all over me. My hands, my clothes, my world was soaked in red.

Screams resonated throughout the halls. I did not think this through. He dropped to the ground. Oh God… what have I done? He’s not the monster… I am..!

Hesitating for a second, unbelieving, I abandoned everything in my blood-covered and sweating palms and bolted to my room.

Adrenaline was rushing in my veins. I could barely think. My legs were weak under the reality of what I had done. Guilt was spreading through me faster than that poisonous liquid did in him… I cut myself off right there. I didn’t want to think about what I had just done.

I opened the door to my room and quickly shut it behind me. With a click, I locked the door. The steel handle was now smothered in crimson. I stumbled through my room, crumpling down in a desolate corner. Suddenly, they were back.

_ Oh god, please, not them…! _

They prowled closer, like a predator circling their prey in the endless void of midnight. I rocked back and forth, shaking, nervously mumbling phrases such as “Don’t come any closer, please..!” They continued relentlessly. A deafening dissonance; a swirling cacophony of yelling and accusatory words; all slurred with their soulless, blurred visages and unnatural frowns, as if their faces were torn at the edges. Insults such as  _ “You monster. Just die.” _ and encouraging phrases among the sorts were slung at me, continuing to build up the already flooding guilt. I squeezed my eyes shut and silently wept.

Their voices and yelling suddenly became nauseatingly loud. There was a hum in my ears, accompanied by a sudden lightheadedness. My heart was hammering violently; I could almost feel a pulsing within my skull. My mind felt as if it was about to burst into uncountable numbers of nasty particles. Suddenly, silence; an amount of sound that of which could be heard in a vacuum. Sweat dripping down my face, head aching, I reluctantly opened my eyes. The softly dusted room was desolate, as if nobody had witnessed whatever the hell just happened. As if those nondescript, colorless people never existed.

I looked down at my trembling hands and body. No blood on them whatsoever. The building, as silent as the dead, showed no sign of irregularity. My vision blurring, the tears began to fall. Countless questions swirled rapidly in my mind, but the most important one stood out quite plainly;

Was any of that even real?


End file.
